“Savage” heads


Enclosed in their display cases, unperturbed behind the glass, the heads attract yet another group of visitors.
They are watched, scrutinized, inspected in every smallest detail by a multitude of wide-open eyes. The children are in the front row, as usual, their noses pressed against the glass, their small faces suspended between a grimace of disgust and an excited, amazed look.
As for the adults, their wonder is somehow tarnished by judgment or, better, prejudice. “You have to understad that for these indigenous people it was a sacred practice”, sentences a nice gentleman, eager to prove his broad cultural views. “Still, it’s a horrible thing”, replies his wife, a little disgusted.
The scene repeats itself each and every day, for the heads sitting under the glass.
And few of the visitors understand they’re not actually looking at real objects from an ancient, distant culture. They are admiring a fantasy, the idea of that culture that Westerners have created and built.


The two basic kinds of heads presented in anthropological sections of museums all around the world are tsantsas and mokomokai.

The most famous tsantsas are the ones hailing from South America and created by the Jivaro peoples; among these tribes, the most prolific in fabricating such trophies were undoubtedly the Shuar and the Achuar, who lived between Ecuador and Peru.


The Shuar technique for shrinking heads was complex: an incision was made from the nape to the top of the head; once completely skinned, after paying specific attention as to keep all the hair intact, the skull was discarded. The facial skin was then boiled. Any trace of soft tissue had to be eliminated by rolling red-hot pebbles inside the skin, which was then further scraped with hot sand, roasted on flat stones, and so on. It was a delicate and meticulous procedure, until eventually the head was reduced to one fourth of the original size.

What was the purpose of such dedication?
The tsantsas were part of solemn celebrations which lasted several years, and were meant to capture the extraordinary power of the victim’s soul. They were not actually war trophies, in spite of what you can sometimes read, because the Shuar and Achuar usually lived quite peacefully: the occasional raids organized by the various tribes to hunt for tsantsas were a form of socially accepted violence, as there was no purpose in it other than obtaining these very powerful objects.
Great feasts welcomed the return of the headhunters, and these celebrations were the most important in the whole year. The intrinsic power the tsantsas was transferred to the women, assuring wealth and plenty of food to the families. After seven years of rituals, the shrunken heads lost their force. For the Shuar, at this point, the tsantsas had no pratical value: some kept the heads as a keepsake, but others got rid of them without giving it a second thought. The focus was not the material object in itself, but its spiritual power.

That was not at all the case with Western merchants. To them, a shrunken head perfectly summarized the idea of a “savage culture”. These indigenous people, in the collective imaginary of the Nineteenth Century, were still depicted as brutal and animal-like: there was a will to think them as “stuck in time”, as if they had been lingering in a prehistoric underdeveloped stage, without ever undergoing evolutions or social transformations.
Therefore, what object could be a clearer symbol of these tribes’ barbarity than a macabre and grotesque souvenir like tsantsas?

If at the beginning of European settlements, in the Andes region and the Amazon River basin, the colonists had traded various tipes of goods with the indigenous people, as time went by they became ever more autonomous. As they did not need the pig or deer meat any more, which until then the Shuar had bartered with clothes, knives and guns, the settlers began to request only two things in exchange for the precious firearms: the indios’ labor force, and their infamous shrunken heads.
Soon enough, the only way a Shuar could get hold of a rifle was to sell a head.

That’s when the situation got worse, along with the exponential growth of Western fascination with tsantsas. The shrunken heads became a must-have curiosity for collectors and museums alike. The need for arms pushed the Shuar people to hunt heads for purposes which were not ritual any more, but rather exclusively commercial, in an attempt to satisfy the European request. A tsantsa for a gun, was the usual bargain: that gun would then be used to hunt more heads, exchanged for new arms… the vicious cycle ended up in a massacre, carried out to comply with foreigners’ tastes in exoticism.
As Frances Larson writes, “when visitors come to see the shrunken heads at the Pitt Rivers Museum, what they are really seeing is a story of the white man’s gun“.

The tsantsas lost their spiritual value, which had always been connected with the circulation of power inside the tribe, and became a tool for accumulating riches. Ironically, the settlers contributed to the creation of those cruel and unscrupulous headhunters they always expected to find.

The Shuar by then were killing indiscriminately, and without any ritual support, just to obtain new heads. They began making fake tsantsas, using the remains of women, children, even Westerners – confident that someone would surely fall for the scam.
In the second half of the ‘800, the commerce of tsantsas flourished so much that even peoples who had nothing to do with Jivaros and their traditions, began fabricating their own shrunken heads: in Colombia and Panama unclaimed bodies were stolen from the morgue, their heads given to helpful taxidermists. In other cases the heads of monkeys or sloths, and other animal skins, were used to produce convincing fakes.
Today nearly 80% of the tsantsas held in museums worldwide is estimated to be fake.

The history of New Zealand’s mokomokai followed an almost identical script.
Unlike tsantsas, for the Maori people these heads were actually war trophies, captured during inter-tribal battles. The heads were not shrunk, but preserved with their skull still inside. Brain, eyes and tongue were gouged, nostrils and orifices sealed with fibers and gum; then the heads were buried in hot stones, in order to steam-cook them and dry them out. The mokomokai were meant to be exposed around the chief’s house.

In the second half of ‘700, naturalist Joseph Banks, sailing with James Cook, was the first European to acquire a similar head, after convincing an elderly man at a village to part from it – thanks to his eloquence, and to a musket pointed at the old man’s face. In all the following trips, Cook’s company spotted only a pair of mokomokai, a clue suggesting that these objects were in fact pretty uncommon.

Yet, after just fifty years, the commerce of heads in New Zealand had reached such intensity that many believed the Maori would be totally annihilated. Here too, the heads were traded for guns, in a spiral of violence that seriously threatened the indigenous population, particularly during the so-called Musket Wars.

Collectors were mainly attracted by the intricate tā moko (carved tattoos) which adorned the chiefs’ faces with elegant and sinuous spirals. So, Maori chiefs began tattooing their slaves just before beheading them – in some cases giving the Western buyer the option to choose a favorite head, while the unlucky owner was still alive; they tattoed heads that had already been cut, just to raise their price. The tā moko, a decorative art form of ancient origin, ended up been emptied of all meaning related to courage, honor or social status.
In New Zealand, even Europeans began to get killed, to have their heads tattoed and sold to their unsuspecting fellow countrymen: a fraud not devoid of a certain amount of  black humor.

Trading mokomokai was outlawed in 1831; the import of tsantas from South America was only banned from 1940.

So, in displays of ethnic artifacts in museums around the globe, in those darkened exotic heads, one is able to contemplate not only an ancient ritual object, packed with symbols and meanings: it is almost possible to glimpse at the very moment in which those meanings and symbols vanished forever.


Tsantsas and mokomokai are difficult, controversial, problematic objects.
Among the visitors, it is easy to find someone who feels outraged by an indigenous practice which by today’s standards seems cruel; after reading this article, maybe some reader will be disgusted by the hypocrisy of Westerners, who were condemning the savage headhunters while coveting the heads, and looking forward to put them on display in their homes.
Either way, one feels indignant: as if this peculiar fascination did not really affect us… as if our entire western culture did not come from a very long tradition of heads cut off and exposed on poles, on city walls and in public places.
But the beheadings never stopped existing, just as the human head never ceased to be a very powerful and magnetic symbol, both shocking and irresistibly hypnotizing.

Most of the information in this article, as well as the inspiration for it, comes from the brilliant Severed by Frances Larson, a book on the cultural and antrhopological significance of severed heads.

Shrek, la pecora ribelle

Sheep Resting Upon the Rolling Hillside, Kaikura, South Island, New Zealand-537855

Le pecore, in Nuova Zelanda, sono un’istituzione. Fino agli anni ’60 la lana rappresentava un terzo dei ricavi di esportazione, e anche se oggi queste cifre si sono notevolmente abbassate, i greggi ovini sono ancora parte integrante dei bucolici paesaggi dello stato insulare. Ma se pensate che tutte le pecore siano “pecoroni”, ovvero docili e senza un vero carattere, la storia di Shrek vi farà ricredere.

Shrek era un montone castrato della specie Merino, nato e cresciuto nella fattoria di Bendigo, vicino alla piccola comunità pastorizia di Tarras, nell’Isola del Sud. Le pecore Merino sono allevate per la loro lana di primissima qualità, e vengono dunque regolarmente tosate dai loro allevatori: questo processo non è violento, ma probabilmente piuttosto fastidioso per l’animale, che viene tenuto fermo in posizioni per lui innaturali. Gli agnelli e le pecore più giovani scalciano e combattono durante la tosatura, ma con il passare degli anni capiscono che non c’è nulla da temere; gli animali più vecchi hanno imparato dall’esperienza e non oppongono più resistenza quando vengono alleggeriti dai diversi chili di lana che li ricoprono. Un buon tosatore, infatti, impiega soltanto tre o quattro minuti per portare a termine l’indolore operazione.

Shrek, invece, non ne voleva proprio sapere di essere tosato – ed evidentemente mal sopportava anche la vita all’interno del gregge. Un bel giorno, decise che ne aveva vuto abbastanza e lasciò i suoi simili ovini per darsi alla macchia. Era il 1998, e nonostante le continue ricerche dei proprietari, per sei lunghi anni nessuno seppe più nulla di lui.

Infine, il 15 aprile del 2004, la sua “latitanza” giunse al termine quando il suo padrone riuscì finalmente a scovarlo: Shrek si era nascosto per tutti quegli anni in una grotta. Ma ormai non assomigliava nemmeno più ad una pecora.




Secondo le parole del pastore che lo trovò nella caverna, “sembrava una creatura biblica”, un Behemoth o una bestia mitologica. Il suo vello infatti aveva cotinuato a crescere e crescere, senza controllo, fagocitando praticamente l’intero corpo dell’animale.

Shrek the Sheep Photo: STEPHEN JAQUIERY



La curiosità scientifica che sta dietro a questo episodio è piuttosto sorprendente: per quanto riguarda le pecore domestiche come le Merino, se il pelo non viene tosato continuerà a crescere all’infinito. Si tratta di un’evoluzione dovuta proprio alla pastorizia, e all’interazione con l’uomo: infatti le pecore selvatiche perdono gran parte del vello in maniera naturale durante l’anno, cosa che succede anche ai capi allevati esclusivamente per la loro carne. Soltanto le pecore da lana producono pelo durante tutto l’anno, senza sosta. In questo senso, sono divenute dipendenti dall’uomo perché senza tosatura andrebbero incontro a seri problemi di salute. Nelle stagioni estive, la mole di lana può portare a stress da calore; il pelo non curato causa problemi di motilità, tanto che in alcuni casi impedisce alla pecora di rialzarsi da terra; inoltre anche gli occhi potrebbero venire ricoperti dalla lana, rendendo di fatto cieco l’animale.


Certo, Shrek era comunque un’eccezione. Il vello di una pecora Merino pesa in media circa 4.5 kg, e in qualche raro caso arriva fino ai 15 kg; ma il pelo che Shrek aveva prodotto durante i sei anni di fuga aveva un peso assolutamente straordinario – 27 kg, sufficienti per cucire 20 completi da uomo.







Diventato immediatamente una star per i neozelandesi, sempre orgogliosi delle proprie pecore, Shrek venne infine tosato in diretta TV nazionale. La sua lana fu messa all’asta per beneficienza, venne stampato un libro per bambini, e la famosa pecora incontrò perfino il Primo Ministro, Helen Clark, al Parlamento. Si stima che questa pubblicità abbia fruttato all’industria nazionale dell’esportazione approssimativamente 100 milioni di dollari.






Per celebrare il suo decimo compleanno, a 30 mesi dalla prima tosatura, ecco un’altra trovata: Shrek venne nuovamente tosato, ma questa volta su un iceberg, galleggiante al largo della costa di Dunedin. Ancora una volta lo scopo di questa impresa era a favore di un ente benefico per la cura dei bambini, e per promuovere la lana neozelandese. Ma probabilmente fu tutt’altro che un compleanno memorabile per Shrek, a cui vennero addirittura applicati degli speciali ramponi da ghiaccio perché non scivolasse lungo i freddi pendii dell’iceberg.

Shrek shorn

Shrek shorn

Shrek shorn

All’età di 16 anni, nel 2011, su consiglio del veterinario Shrek venne sottoposto ad eutanasia. Le sue ceneri furono sparse sulla cima della montagna più alta del paese, Mount Cook, a simbolo e memoria dell’insegnamento che, a detta dei neozelandesi, questo testardo animale ci ha lasciato: se non vuoi fare una cosa, lotta con tutte le tue forze per evitarla.

Ma, a voler essere davvero cinici, dalla storia di Shrek si potrebbe anche dedurre l’esatto opposto – non importa quanto tu ti batta, alla fine la tosatura arriva per tutti…


Lumaca assassina

Pensate anche voi che le lumache siano simbolo di lentezza? Date un’occhiata a questa lumaca carnivora della Nuova Zelanda.


Scoperto via BoingBoing.